Her jet-black hair spilled loosely, her fair cheeks tinged with a blush of rose. Long, thick lashes rested quietly, so docile it softened the heart.
As he stepped into the security room, Jason unfastened his suit jacket and draped it over Kristen's shoulders, then lifted her into his arms in one smooth motion.
On the way out, he shot Leon a look. Leon understood at once, pulling a wallet from his inner pocket.
Jason carried Kristen to the car and didn't put her down—he held her tight against him. His slender, pale fingers slid into her dark hair, tucking her face gently into the crook of his neck.
Leon tipped the guard a stack of cash, took Kristen's bag, and got into the front seat.
Ten minutes later, the car rolled to a stop.
Jason stepped out, still cradling Kristen, and walked into the bright, opulent villa.
The housekeeper—a woman in her forties—wore her hair loose, black stockings, a miniskirt, and a white blouse cut so low it nearly spilled over.
She came forward beaming. "Sir, you're ba—"
The smile froze when she saw the woman in his arms.
Jason didn't spare her a glance. Holding Kristen, he headed straight upstairs. As he passed, his voice was ice. "You're dismissed."
The housekeeper's face went drained and ashen. She opened her mouth, but Jason paused on the step and turned. One look—dark and blade-cold—shut her up completely.
He glanced down to check the woman in his arms hadn't stirred, then continued up.
Tears streamed down the housekeeper's face, her foundation flaking like paint—ghastly. When Leon entered, she rushed him, pleading, "Secretary Leon, please put in a word for me. I don't even know what I did wrong. Sir is letting me go."
Leon's gaze stayed steady. He handed the black tote to a maid and said, cool and plain, "If you set your sights where you shouldn't, don't expect Mr. Jin to give you another chance."
He'd warned her yesterday that a young lady would be moving in. She couldn't claim ignorance. Deliberately keeping Miss Liang at the gate had crossed Mr. Jin's bottom line.
Unmasked, the housekeeper's hidden thoughts left her face blanching green and white by turns, and she was unable to get a single coherent word out.
Leon had never liked her gaudy, suggestive airs. He had no desire to look at her a moment longer. Before leaving, he notified security to watch her pack and escort her off the premises.
Upstairs.
Jason carried Kristen into the master bedroom. Amid the black-and-gray decor, a pink silk bedding set looked oddly out of place.
He laid her carefully on the soft bed and dimmed the floor lamp by the headboard.
Kristen sank into the plush mattress, rolled to a more comfortable position, tucked a hand beneath her cheek, and slept even deeper.
Jason sat at the edge of the bed watching her. The thin line of his lips slowly curved, and his long, pale fingers drifted toward her cheek of their own accord.
As if to make sure this wasn't a dream.
His fingertips touched her face. The warmth and softness told him this was all real.
Kristen seemed to sense something. She murmured in her sleep, too softly to make out.
His fingers drifted from her cheek to her brows, slid down the bridge of her nose, and landed on her rose-red lips.
Moistened by wine, her lips looked like a ripe crimson fruit, begging to be tasted.
His Adam's apple bobbed once, twice. In the end, desire broke its leash. He lowered his head and claimed her mouth.
He meant only to brush a kiss—but lust, once freed, is a beast that won't be caged again.
His palm cradled her face. He teased her lips apart and pushed deeper.
Mouths and teeth tangled, greed urging him for more.
Half-drifting, Kristen didn't know what was happening—only that her breath wouldn't come. Instinctively, she pressed against his chest.
But the more she resisted, the fiercer his kiss became, as if he meant to devour her whole.
Heat flooded her cheeks. From between her lips came a soft, slurred sound—
"Finn…"
Jason, freshly back from perfecting his wall-stealing technique: …
Forget stealing the wall. Just knock it down.
( End of Chapter )
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